Page 91 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“I think Robards said the musicians were in the red tent,” said Linnet, scanning the field full of fluttering, striped canopies.

Her heart swelled at the sight. All their tenants and vassals were strolling around, joining in the festivities and vastly enjoying themselves. It was just as she had imagined it would be all those weeks ago when she’d been deceived. All felt right with her world. Now whenever she caught someone’s eye, they were happy to greet her with a smile and bob, a curtsy or sketch a bow. She nodded and smiled at Rolfe, who was walking out with Nan the maid. Mrs. Perkins, the housekeeper, was wearing her fine new cloak with pride, despite the fine weather. Gossip from the royal court had reached as far even as the Summerlands and everyone seemed to know of the happenings at the royal court and how Mason had chosen Linnet over title and fortune. Apparently even bards were singing of it! Lady Sybilla Jauncey and the rest of their neighbors in the county had been falling over themselves to befriend the Queen’s new favorite lady-in-waiting. It was well known that the Jevonses had fled to some obscure corner of the kingdom to live in retirement. The castle servants had heard everything firsthand from Gertie and Cuthbert whose stories of Caer-Lyonnes were much in demand. Nan was determined that she would be the one to accompany her mistress next time, and Gertie was giving her specialized court training.

Linnet caught sight of Gertie, who was arm-in-arm with Diggory the groom. They waved before disappearing into an orange tent which contained the pig roast that Johnny Wickers and the rest of the staff from The Bear were serving so the kitchen staff could also enjoy the day’s celebrations.

“They’re raising the banns tomorrow in the village church,” Linnet told Mason. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told Gertie we’d attend in the family pew.”

“There’s a Cadwallader pew?” asked Mason. After all, the castle had its own private chapel. They had had their wedding vows blessed there that very morning.

“Oh yes, it’s carved with leopard heads and everything, apparently. It’ll be my first time seeing it too. My great-grandfather commissioned it.”

“Which reminds me,” said Mason, coming to a halt. He reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.”

Linnet sent him a bewildered look as he took her left hand and slipped the cracked panther ring from her finger. In its place, he slid a much snugger-fitting ring. Linnet watched as he placed the small Vawdrey crest ring back onto his smallest finger. He winked at her. “This one will always remind me of you now,” he said.

Linnet gazed down at the round, blue, onyx signet ring on her third finger. It was set in gold and was very solid. On the left side was a leopard rampant, the sigil of the Cadwalladers, and on the right, the Vawdrey panther reared up to meet the leopard in perfect symmetry—a commemoration of their union.

“You won’t be in any danger of losing that one,” he said when words completely failed her.

“Oh, Mason, it’s beautiful,” she whispered. “When did you—?”

“At Caer-Lyonnes,” he preempted her. “There’s a royally appointed jeweler there. He promised to have it ready in time for our wedding feast.”

“I love it,” Linnet said, swallowing a lump in her throat. She reached for her chatelaine. “I have something for you also,” she unclipped a large, antique, gold, seal ring and passed it to him. “It was my grandfather’s. Now you’re the Duke of Cadwallader you can use it for sealing your letters and authorizing things.”

She watched as he turned it over, examining the molding which would leave the leopard crest on any wax seal.

“I’m afraid it’s rather unwieldy, my father always wore it on a chain—” she broke off as he slid it onto a finger where it looked perfectly at home. “He was a much smaller man than you,” she acknowledged with a small laugh.

“Thank you, my love” he said, gently pulling her forward. He placed a hand on her still-flat belly.

She knew it wasn’t just the ring he was thanking her for.

“It looks like it was made for you,” she said, looking down and tracing the engraving with her finger.

“You were made for me, Lady Vawdrey,” he corrected her.

“I was,” she agreed, placing her hand on top of his. “And to think it was three months ago to a day that you came riding up to my castle gates,” she sighed and leant into him. “My unwitting bridegroom.”

His arms came around her at once.

“And to think,” he echoed lightly. “I thought it just an irritating errand. Little did I know my destiny was waiting here for me.” He tipped her face up and gazed down at her a moment before kissing her lingeringly on the lips.

When he drew back he was frowning. “Though when I remember now how boldly you propositioned me . . . ” He shook his head. “I do not think our daughters will be meek.”

“Daughters?” spluttered Linnet.

“Aye wife, daughters.”

“I thought it was three sons you demanded of me?”

“Sons or daughters,” he shrugged. “We’ll raise them together and love them the same.”

Linnet blinked as her eyes became wet. She raised her hand to touch his cheek.

“Yes, we will,” she agreed softly.

He clasped her wrist a moment, holding her hand cradled to his jaw. Linnet dimly became aware of the fact that they were drawing many curious gazes. She marveled, not for the first time, at how comfortable Mason was to show his regard for her to all and sundry. It didn’t seem to bother him one whit, and it made her happily anticipate what kind of father he would make.